


Midnight Reunion

by yellow_sleeping_bag



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Basically cute shit, But kinda gets them back, Fluff, Hugs, Kissing, M/M, Male My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Memory Loss, Post-Game(s), Reunions, Robin sacrifices himself and this is him waking up afterwards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_sleeping_bag/pseuds/yellow_sleeping_bag
Summary: Robin instantly feels warmer at the vague memory of Chrom. His hearts thuds noticeably, and he slowly covers his smile with his hand.
Relationships: Chrom & My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 133





	Midnight Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> I got inspired by basically every reunion story in this tag, because they're all so cute!! And, I really wanted to write one of my own!
> 
> Also, yes, spot the Witcher 3 references (lmao horse called roach, and kid named johnny). I just needed to call them something, and I’m shit with names, so my favs from the Witcher it is.
> 
> Hope the pacing's alright. With these longer fics, I feel like I tend to rush them at the end, but I know if I don't finish it in one session, I'll never get back to it. So it's either this or nothing lmao, why am i like this?
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, and enjoy!

The wind ruffles his hair softly and moves the grass around; lightly tickling him. He feels the sun’s warmth seeping through his clothes, rousing him from his deep slumber.

He stretches contently in the grass, running his fingers over the blades. Squeezing his eyes tightly closed, he then opens them, slowly. He notes how bright it is, the sky a brilliant blue without a single cloud, and the grass a vibrant green. He blinks several times before finally adjusting to the bright afternoon sun.

 _Robin_. That was his name. _Robin_.

He sits himself up, looking down at his hand. He clenches and unclenches his fist several times, working the already aching muscles. Aching from months, years, of disuse.

Robin takes a moment to think, remembering nothingness. It’s not that he remembers nothing, Robin assures himself, it’s only that he remembers darkness. Physically floating and existing, inside of a void.

He turns his hand around slowly, staring at the back of it, searching it. It looks empty, clear from any freckles, blemishes, or markings – which seems, odd, but he can’t place why.

The wind continues to lazily move around him, so he finally stands, pushing himself onto his feet.

He looks around the field, a small dirt path is the only thing worth noting. He stumbles over to it, taking a few steps before feeling confident about walking again. He feels drawn to follow the path north, so he begins walking.

He walks, only for a few minutes, before stopping. He brings his hand up to shield his eyes, squinting, as he focuses on the horizon. He can just make out the silhouette of a castle and surrounding city.

 _Ylisstol_. _How do I know that?_

Now with a destination, he starts walking again, aiming for Ylisstol.

As he walks, he feels his senses catching up with him, and his mind becoming sharper. He feels the steadiness of the ground beneath him. He feels the weight of his large coat, and the solid presence of a tome.

His hands find the tome, and he brings it out of a large inner pocket. He traces the familiar patterns and etchings out of curiosity. _Thoron_ , he reads _,_ a powerful tome.

“Why would I need something as destructive as this?” Robin mutters to himself, voice quiet and shaky.

Instantly, a scene flashes in Robin’s mind, and he stops walking. The memory: the crackle of Thoron as it rips through the air, flying towards an enemy, at himself, _Robin_?

He immediately drops the tome, couching down beside it. He lifts his hands to his head and closes his eyes. He chases the vague memory, replaying the snippet over and over again in his mind. White, yellow, light. Thunder, Thoron. Robin. Robin. Thoron. Battle. Lightning. Robin. Thunder. Dragon. Thoron. Robin. Grima.

_Grima._

Robin’s eyes fly open, and he desperately gulps in air. His eyes widen as he recalls the few fatal moments before entering the almost-eternal void. He killed Grima, landing the final blow, killing Grima and himself.

He lets himself fall further onto the path, sitting on it securely. He’s supposed to be dead now. Robin slows his breathing, regulating it back to an appropriate speed. He lifts his head up, and stares at Ylisstol, still so far away.

He feels drawn to the Capital. Ylisstol is a synonym for home, he realises. He needs to go there, as quickly as possible. He’ll find answers there, _probably_.

He continues to sit there though, watching as the sun slowly trails down the sky. Ylisstol must be miles away, and walking is the slowest option; save for sitting on the path, going nowhere.

With this in mind, Robin stands up again, pocketing his tome, and starts walking again.

It’s not long before he reaches a small town – the sign reading ‘Southtown’ –. He looks around at the buildings, as he walks through the cobbled streets, which lead him to a central courtyard, with decorative streams flowing through it. Stone bridges allow for dry passage across them, allowing the town to display their wealth and decadence.

Though, more images arise in his mind; this exact location, these streets and buildings, alight with roaring flames. He blinks, and the image returns to normal, the fire absent and bandits missing. He shakes his head at the vision, _the_ _memory_ , and descends the steps into the market square.

The market is naturally drawing to a close, with evening quickly approaching, as customers leave, and stall owners pack away their merchandise. There’s a fair amount of chatter amongst the people, Robin not paying much mind to the gossip, until he overhears a woman mention Ylisstol.

“Making the trip back to Ylisstol before night descends will not be easy,” She says, to her neighbouring stall owner. She lifts trunks and boxes into a cart, and then a young boy wheels the cart away to an awaiting horse, with a wagon attached. He starts stacking the boxes onto the wagon.

“How long will it take you?” The other stall owner asks, dusting off her apron. “I might make the trip one day, scout the Capital’s customers, see if they like a bargain.”

“It’ll probably be midnight,” She replies, watching at the boy “Depends on how quick Roach, my horse, is willing to go.”

Getting to Ylisstol will be far easier riding, Robin instantly concludes. He tentatively walks over to the lady, who has just bid the other goodbye.

“Excuse me, Madam.” Robin raises his hand in greeting. She looks over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you want?” She replies, lifting the final trunk into her arms, turning to the horse and wagon. She starts walking, so Robin quickly catches her up.

“I apologise for eavesdropping, but I overheard you were travelling to Ylisstol. Tonight?” Robin asks, and she nods.

“Yeah, I am. I’m guessing you’re after a ride?”

“Yes, that’s right. You see, I woke up in a field earlier today-“ Robin starts but she cuts him off.

“Don’t care. How much have you got?” She asks, as they make it to the wagon. The boy takes her trunk from her hands, and hauls it up. She turns around and looks Robin up and down. He shuffles nervously under her scrutiny.

“Payment?” She prompts, and Robin briefly checks in his pockets, though not hopeful. She rolls her eyes.

“Just, hand over any weapons to my son.” She waves her hand at him, dismissing his from trying to find any money. “We’re trying to improve our relations with folk from Plegia, so, I’ll help you. This is a once only deal though. Next time, you pay.”

Robin stores the information of him looking Plegian for later, and lights up at her kindness.

“Thank you very much.” He smiles and reaches for his Thoron tome. He hands it over to the boy in the back and accepts his hand, getting helped up. The lady walks around the wagon, and climbs herself up, taking the reins. She doesn’t waste anytime before moving, instantly calling out to Roach, and starting the long trip.

The wagon is uncomfortable. The road is bumpy, and Robin’s sat on a hard trunk. The boy has made himself comfy by using an old blanket to lie on. He doesn’t seem scared of Robin, almost used to this situation, sharing the wagon with a stranger. Robin briefly wonders how many people this lady helps travel.

Contrasting the earlier sunshine, the weather takes a turn for the worse. The transition into night is causing the temperature to decrease, and soon, Robin feels the beginnings of rain. Robin pulls his hood up, and wraps himself further in his coat, hiding himself from the elements.

“You should come inside before you catch a cold, Robin.” A male voice says, and Robin snaps his head up. He looks around, but the boy is asleep, and the lady focused on the road.

“I can’t have my Tactician getting ill, can I?”

Robin closes his eyes, and tunes out the constant sound of rain. He focuses his attention on identifying the voice, another one of his memories.

“What kind of Exalt would I be if I let my men get sick?” Robin recalls, smiling unconsciously at the achingly familiar voice. He can picture a blurred image, a man with blue hair, eyes, and clothes to match. He can’t focus on the details though. _Almost, I’m so close._

“What kind of friend would I be, Robin?”

“A terrible friend, Chrom. The worst.” Robin whispers out loud.

“Exactly. Now, you wanted to go over some docume…” The voice fades out and Robin looks up at the sky.

_Chrom. I’m going to Ylisstol for Chrom. He’s waiting for me._

Robin instantly feels warmer at the vague memory of Chrom. His hearts thuds noticeably, and he slowly covers his smile with his hand.

_How could I forget Chrom?_

He then closes his eyes, feeling the rain on his face, and tries to remember everything about Chrom. The details are just out of reach, and Robin sighs in annoyance. He just wants to remember Chrom, who he already feels a connection with; and it frustrates him.

He takes a deep breath, refocusing on any memory that he can relate to the man. He can picture his figure standing next to him, on an undisclosed battlefield. Sword in his hand, _Falchion,_ ready to fight by his side.

He recalls a comforting presence when he felt overwhelmed. He remembers strong arms holding him close after tough battles, fingers running through his hair.

A vivid memory becomes forefront in Robin’s mind. He remembers waking up in a field, and seeing Chrom for the first time. The scenery is beautiful, but Robin can’t tear his eyes away from the man in front of him to admire it.

“I see you’re awake now. There are better places to take a nap then on the ground, you know.” Chrom smiles at him, and Robin reaches out to him in the memory. His current hand, presently, also twitches out.

“Give me your hand.” Chrom says, and Robin doesn’t hesitate. The memory fades, but Robin holds onto the feeling still lingering on his hand; it almost feels like Chrom was just here.

“Chrom,” Robin whispers, and brings his hand to his chest. He holds it tightly over his heart, and takes a deep breath. He looks up at the sky, the moon nearing its midnight position; they’re almost there.

Robin looks up as they leave the forest, and the sight that greets them is welcome after hours of traveling in the rain. The city of Ylisstol stands there, with the castle towering over them on the hill, the highest point in the city.

“Ylisstol. The sight never gets old.” She says, and Robin can’t help but agree. He feels a rush as they approach the large gate. She turns around, facing Robin.

“You should get out now, otherwise you’ll get caught in the wagon inspection. You might as well be on your way.” She explains.

Robin bows his head, “Thank you for your kindness. You’ve made my journey much easier.”

“Don’t mention it.” She shrugs at him, before turning to her son. “Johnny! Wake up. Give the man back his tome.”

The boy stirs awake, reaching behind him blindly, grabbing the tome. He lifts his arm up, handing it over to Robin, without fully waking up.

“-ere you go.” He mumbles, before rolling over.

Robin smiles, keeping quiet to let him get back to sleep. He then jumps off the wagon, down onto the muddy path, careful not to slip. They start moving again, disappearing past the gate, presumably going to a different entrance. Robin waves as they leave, not knowing if they can see him through the heavy rain.

He turns, and starts walking through the gate, and into the city.

Ylisstol is large, Robin notes, and even though the night is late, plenty of people still roam the streets. Guards are on shifts, looking tired, but more alert then most people, workers trudge home, and other citizens laugh and cheer in the taverns and inns.

Robin keeps his head down, pulling his hood up more securely, and walks up the main path, leading to the castle.

The rain is relentless, and Robin uncaringly splashes in puddles as he tiredly plods up the increasing hill. He shivers as the wind hits him, cutting through his damp clothes with a bite. His white hair drips onto his face, and it sweeps into his vision at odd angles.

He dares to look up, the castle softly illuminated by a few candles in the windows, though most them are dark. The castle gate is perfectly lit however, as he approaches.

“Halt.” One of the guard’s calls, and Robin stops walking. “State your name and business.”

“Uhh, my name is Robin.” Robin says, speaking up to be heard over the rain. “But, I don’t have any business, per say. I’m here to see the Exalt?”

“Excuse me? You don’t have any business at the castle? What are you doing here then?” The guard repeats confused. Robin steps closer to talk more easily, without needing to shout.

“I just need to see the Exalt.” Robin says, looking between both the guards. Hoping they’ll relent and let him pass. He’s tired, and cold.

“Wait, you said your name was Robin?” The other adds, and Robin nods. She turns to the other guard on duty. “This might be, him.”

“What? You really believe so?” The original guard asks, and he turns to her.

“White hair, Black and purple coat, goes by Robin.” She explains, turning to back to Robin. “Do you happen to wield magic?” She asks, and Robin pulls out his tome.

“Yes, I do.” Robin says, and she gasps.

“Follow me,” She says, turning into the castle grounds and starts walking. “I’m to escort you to the Exalt immediately.”

“What about your position?” The other guard calls out, as Robin slowly passes him to follow the other.

“This matter takes priority.” She answers simply, and waits for Robin to catch her up, before leading them across the courtyard and into the main entrance.

Robin has to walk quickly to keep up with the guard, as she leads him upstairs and through several corridors. The castle is decorated as the remembers it, small images from his memory return; from the colour of the rugs and curtains, to the familiar route to the Exalt’s chambers.

“I’m expected?” Robin asks her, and she laughs a little.

“Expected? Yes. The Exalt himself informed us all of you.” She answers, “He informed each guard of your appearance, and gave us direct orders to bring you to him; not matter the hour or circumstance.”

“He remembers me?” Robin gasps, feeling his cheeks light up.

“He issued a reminder every month,” She nods, “I could probably recite by heart, by now.”

_How long has it been since I disappeared?_

He goes to ask the guard, but she halts, stopping outside a decorative wooden door. Robin looks at the door, and more memories overwhelm him. Memories of sneaking into these Chambers, memories of hiding in them to avoid people, of pulling a tired Chrom out of them for important meetings.

“Here we are.” She gestures to the door, “The Exalt’s chambers, I’ll leave you here. Please make your presence known.” She bows at him, before turning back the way they came.

Robin stands there for a moment, trying to collect himself. He’s dripping wet, and shivering, and making a small puddle on the floor. He lowers his hood, and takes a breath.

_What if Chrom doesn’t remember me? What if it’s been years and he’s forgotten?_

Robin shakes his head.

_The guard remembered me, under the order of Chrom. He remembers me._

Before he can hesitate further, he knocks on the door. He holds his breath as he waits for an answer. The sound of his heartbeat echoes around in his head, and he raises his hand again; ready to knock but gets interrupted.

“Hello? Come in?” The voice calls from the inside. It sounds rough with sleep, but so familiar. Robin tears up at the sound, not even feeling bad about the late hour anymore.

He cracks open the door, and steps in.

The room is dark, with the moonlight streaming through a gap in the curtain, it being the only source of light. There is a large four-poster bed, with the curtains around it drawn. Robin can see movement behind them, as the figure slowly wakes up and rises.

“Hello. Who is it? Is everything alrig-?” He asks, interrupting himself with a yawn. Robin wipes his eyes roughly, and takes a stuttering breath inwards.

“Chrom? It’s me.”

The movement freezes, silence enveloping the room.

“Robin?” Chrom asks quietly, disbelieving, not daring to move. Robin takes a shaky step towards the bed, the floorboards creaking under him.

“Chrom..” Robin calls softly, and Chrom pulls back the bed curtain. He rushes the movement and twists himself to see around the fabric. They lock eyes with each other, and Robin crumbles.

“Chrom!” He cries out, and Chrom tears up himself.

“Holy shit,” He mutters, and ungracefully slips out of the bed. He scrambles over, and as soon as Robin is within his reach, he grabs his damp coat, and pulls him into his chest, unhesitatingly.

Robin clutches to Chrom’s nightshirt, as Chrom squeezes him tightly.

“Oh gods,” He says, letting his tears fall. “Robin, you’re back. Robin.” Chrom starts swaying them, his hand traveling up to Robin’s damp white hair. Robin tightens his hold, his chest exploding, as he nuzzles into Chrom’s chest, desperately holding him close.

Chrom presses a kiss onto Robin’s head, and he sobs at the affection.

“Chrom…” Robin whispers, hiding his face, as he sobs out breaths.

“Oh gods, it’s been so long Robin. I’ve missed you so much.” Chrom admits, voice cracking. He strokes Robin’s hair, pulling him as close as possible. Robin melts further into the embrace.

“How long has it been?” Robin asks, pulling his head back slightly to stare at the other. Chrom takes the hand from his hair, and cups his jaw with it. He gently strokes Robin’s cheek with his thumb, taking in the sight of the other.

“Four years,” Chrom answers, pressing a kiss to Robin’s forehead. “Four long years.”

Robin leans into the palm of Chrom’s hand, turning his head so he can press a kiss onto it. Chrom smiles at him, through his tears.

“I love you Robin, oh gods, I love you so much.” He says and pushes his forehead against the Tacticians. “Never leave me again.”

“I won’t leave you Chrom.” Robin promises. “I don’t want to live without you.”

Chrom leans in, finally pressing his mouth against Robin’s. Robin sighs, and wraps his arms around the others neck.

Robin pulls away, leaning his foreheads against Chrom, taking a deep breath.

“And I love you too.”


End file.
